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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26091835">More Than Just A Dream</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aztecl/pseuds/Aztecl'>Aztecl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Child Abuse, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Red Room (Marvel), Wanda Maximoff &amp; Natasha Romanov Friendship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:20:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,181</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26091835</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aztecl/pseuds/Aztecl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After loosing control of her powers while sleeping, Wanda Maximoff accidentally views someone else's dream. But she can't shake the feeling that it was an insight to someone's memories instead. She wants to help, but the only way to do that is to find the owner of that haunting memory.</p><p>Only friendship, but could be read either way Natasha centric. Hinted Romanogers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel or any of its characters and locations.</p><p>Warning: Mentions of past child abuse, blood, angst, and possibly suicidal thoughts or hints towards past attempts. Don't read if this makes you uncomfortable or upset. :)</p><p>This is a one-shot that turned into three chapters, so yeah. First time using AO3, lemme know if something goes wrong.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter One:</p><p>Ballet music played throughout the building, providing a basic guideline for dancing in time. The piano notes moved with the strings - almost like how twenty girls danced in the front room, all between the ages of nine and fifteen.</p><p>They all wore identical white leotards and hard leather slippers. They weren't exactly shoes made for dancing, but that didn't stop anyone from doing what they must do. It was the only way to survive in the Red Room. You did what Madame B or your trainer asked, then you readily await your next orders. <em>You're supposed to be eager</em>, they say, <em>don't you want to serve Mother Russia?</em></p><p>The girls stood on the points of their toes and started to go through a normal routine. Spin, to the right, twirl again and again. Left. Right and over. Repetition was key to success - and making sure targets were eliminated or disposed of; information was acquired through any means necessary; tasks were completed at the one hundred percent marker.</p><p>The consequences for failure were defined as death. But Ivan and Madame B always said there were worse things than death, for those that deserved it. Nobody was excited to learn what that meant.</p><p>There were actually supposed to be eight more recruits in the program, but they were the weak ones. Weakness won't get you anywhere, and shouldn't be tolerated. The Red Room only hardened the best of the best; cream of the crop. Only one could be the Black Widow.</p><p>The dream suddenly shifted into a later hour of the same day. Light still streamed through the windows from where the drapes didn't quite reach and cover up, but it looked much darker outside. The beams of light were much paler, filtering inside with a marigold colored complexion.</p><p>The girls were still dancing, but this time - something was different.</p><p>The setting sun's rays found their shine on streaks of red and crimson, drying into a rusted brown. A coppery aroma hung heavily in the air, confirming that that was blood staining the wood planking. The girl's shoes would occasionally squelch with the blood in their too-tight shoes, compacting their toes in tightly without enough breathing room. The once creme colored shoes matched the floor and one of the girl's hair.</p><p>
  <em>It looked familiar, but why?</em>
</p><p>The music didn't have the happy feeling it gave off earlier. It'd been replaced with dread and longing, sounding more and more distorted as the hours drew by. How long had it been? There was no clock, no need to tell the time. Hell, none of them were even sure about the year. Some said it was the late 80s, but others were certain it was the 90s. No instructor offered up an exact date, but instead let the girls wonder. The only answers you could have were ones that you got. People didn't just hand your their secrets - you had to hunt for them. Of course, not a single girl would risk it in fear of Madame B and Ivan and a fellow they dubbed as the Winter Soldier.</p><p>One girl with dark hair braided down her back stumbled. She fell over and hit the ground hard, no longer having the strength to put out her hands and catch herself. The redhead tried to stop and offer a hand, but one look from Madame B made her stop. Help is for the weak. She was not weak like the girl now laying on the floor.</p><p>The Winter Soldier, a man with a metal arm and some sort of face mask, forcefully walked over and grabbed the weak one with by her arm. She cried out and her once emotionless eyes filled with panic. The girl yelled something in Russian, and he said something back that shut her up instantly.</p><p>The soldier nodded at Madame B, and she looked in the direction of the redhead who'd tried to help. "Natalia, come forth."</p><p>Natalia abandoned her post next to the other girls and joined the Winter Soldier as he dragged the dark haired girl down a hallway. She was hopeless, couldn't fight back or save herself. Natalia didn't know Elizaveta very well, but they were around the same age. That didn't mean anything in the Red Room though; you were defined by your loyalty rather than a mediocre number. Ivan always said judging by quantity and not quality was an Американец thing. One was a sufficient number if done right.</p><p>Quality over quantity. That's how it was done in the Red Room. Only one could be the Black Widow.</p><p>He led the girls into the typical training room, although this one already had a chair set up with a man sitting there. His clothes were surprisingly not ripped or soaked in his own blood. <em>Unconscious</em>, Natalia thought. It was hard to tell when he had a bag over his head, but the man didn't move.</p><p>The Winter Soldier caught her staring. "For tomorrow's class." He pulled a handgun off a shelf and checked the barrel. Once confirmed that there was a bullet already loaded, he put it in Natalia's hand. She didn't like the familiar feeling of the cold metal. Guns were always used during intense training, or harsh punishment. It didn't take long for Natalia and Elizaveta to put two and two together.</p><p>"N- no!" She said frantically. "Wait-"</p><p>"тишина," he snapped at her before turning to the other girl. "Natalia, I will be your new trainer. For the next couple of years, you do as I explicitly say. Nothing else except my orders, Madame B's, or even Ivan's. Understand?"</p><p>Natalia wanted to say something about how unfair this was. Elizaveta didn't deserve death as such a young age. It put a sick feeling in her gut and it begged, "<em>Hell no! I don't want to serve you or Mother Russia. Why do think the Soviet Union collapsed all those years ago?</em>" But Natalia couldn't bring herself to say it. She nodded in agreement to the soldier - her new trainer.</p><p>"First task is right here, right now."</p><p>Natalia stared long and hard at the gun in her hand. It was almost like it had a heartbeat, but she knew that nothing in the Red Room had a heart.</p><p>"Right here, right now," the Winter Soldier repeated dryly. Natalia gulped when he rested his metal hand on her shoulder. He started absentmindedly tapping out Morse code, but her ears were ringing with her own thoughts.</p><p>The last one was the loudest, drowning out the others: I do what I have to do to survive. Nothing else matters. I have no other place in this world.</p><p>Natalia pulled the trigger.</p><hr/><p>Wanda awoke with a gasp. That dream almost didn't seem like a dream, but rather a memory. It was so vivid and real...it was like everything there had already happened and she could do nothing about it. She put her face in her shaking hands, trying to cover up the tears cascading down her cheeks. She couldn't even think about what she'd just seen. It seemed like an invasion of privacy, and Wanda remembered that this wasn't the first time she'd wished her powers gone.</p><p>The clock resting on the bedside table read that it was about two in the morning. Wanda sighed, realizing that she only went to bed about three hours ago due to Steve, Clint, and Natasha's insisting that sleep was needed in order to focus on training.</p><p>She'd chosen not to bring up the dark bags beneath the two agent's eyes. That was their personal business, and Wanda knew that they wouldn't share any details unless it were life-or-death. They were just secretive people, whether it was just them in general or being ex-SHIELD agents, Wanda didn't know. Figuring out Natasha Romanoff especially seemed difficult.</p><p>The teenager got out from the mountain of blankets upon her bed. Even though the floor was soft white carpet, it did nothing to calm the chills inside of her. Wanda crept across the room into the bathroom attached to her room. Walking in, she heard a muffled sound from the next room over. Instantly, Wanda was on edge and much more alert than before. A door opened somewhere in the distance before shutting again. She couldn't remember who's room was beside hers.</p><p>Wanda suddenly felt such panic from out of nowhere, that she felt her knees buckle. She collapsed onto the bathroom floor, and tried to level her breathing, just like how Clint told her. <em>In and out. In and out.</em></p><p>Whatever she just felt, Wanda realized, was such a strong mix of emotions. It was like a bottle that had been continuously mixed in with other ingredients, and shaken up and down. The solution inside fizzled and popped, but couldn't fulfill its yearning sense of wanting to release the pressure. It was like their life was just too much too handle at times - exactly the theme of Wanda's latest dream. But Wanda was already feeling weak, making it hard to pinpoint an exact direction on where it'd come from.</p><p>She cursed herself. That wasn't a dream. It was someone else's memory... Wanda knew that it was private, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she wanted to help. She thought about the memory and how accepting help was weakness. Wanda disagreed; everyone needed a hand, and she was already determined to offer one of her own.</p><p>She made her way back to her bed, channeling most of her dwindling energy into blocking the incoming wave of feelings coming towards her mind. Wanda decided that in the morning...she would visit the person who had that memory: the Winter Soldier.</p><p>Little did she know - it wasn't his.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wanda confronts Bucky about the memory she's seen, but the direction of the conversation was not something she'd ever expected.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Reminder that I don't own Marvel or these characters.</p><p>The third and final chapter will be out soon! I'm so excited to finish this multi-parted one-shot.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The stupid buzzing of an alarm clock was the first thing Wanda heard, only mere hours after being rudely awakened. She murmured something that probably no one could make out before setting to work on disabling the alarm.</p><p>It was set up like a bomb — complete with a timer counting the seconds away until it's turned off; a rainbow array of colored wires dipping over and under each other; and...glitter? Yeah, Clint was the one that made the final adjustments and tweaks to the poor clock before giving it to Wanda. She was sure that his best friend had also helped though, probably as a part of her training regimen. Nothing would surprise Wanda anymore.</p><p>The teenager cursed, then realized her mistake of making noise. Her hand covered her mouth and she hoped Natasha wasn't waiting outside her door, listening in for any noises. The spy was — well, a spy. Steve had tried to help Wanda out and take away the whole disarm-your-alarm-clock charade. Yeah, he was quickly outnumbered by the pair of assassins. He simply shrugged and mouthed <em>sorry </em>at Wanda. She did agree on it though — their methods always seemed to work.</p><p>Wanda managed to disarm the clock after barely a two and a half minutes. It was a new record for her, so she headed to the bathroom feeling quite proud. After taking a super-speedy shower, Wanda felt a bit of stress lifted off. She stood there, having gotten dressed, and was now brushing her teeth. Her mistake was thinking her day was going well. That all went out the window when Wanda suddenly remembered: the dream (memory) from last night.</p><p>She shuddered just thinking about it — the blood on poor Natalia's hands, Elizaveta getting murdered for messing up ballet, and Bucky somehow being connected. Wanda realized he'd been in Winter Soldier programming, but it was still scary to see how he compared to the Bucky that she knew, the guy who was probably in the kitchen making coffee with his best friend after a morning jog. He occasionally accompanied Steve and Sam to go running near the Compound, complaining about the temperature.</p><p>Wanda took a deep breath and opened her bedroom door. She crept down the hallway, being careful not to wake up anyone who didn't wish to be rudely awakened — she'd had experience with that and didn't reckon anyone else wanted it. Especially when a certain billionaire was trying to sleep off a massive hangover, a result of challenging Clint to a game of shots. Wanda assumed he wouldn't be present at morning training, but also wouldn't exactly be surprised if the archer did come in after <em>inhaling</em> an entire pot of coffee.</p><p>She was right — Bucky sat in the kitchen on the table. Steve had an eyebrow raised and was placing his plate into the sink.</p><p>"Well, it's comfy up here," Bucky was saying. "I'd totally recommend it."</p><p>Steve snorted. "It's <em>comfortable </em>on our <em>kitchen</em> <em>table?"  </em></p><p>His best friend shrugged and finally noticed Wanda walking into the kitchen. "Morning, I made pancakes—"</p><p>"Actually I made those," Steve interrupted.</p><p>"It was a team effort."</p><p>Wanda laughed at their bickering. The knot in her stomach churned when she remembered the memory Bucky was concealing. Did he even remember it? Shuri had said that he was beginning to recover some lost things, especially with the team's help. She didn't even know if it were possible to bury something that dark. How could a person conceal that much pain and grief? How do you become an entire different person just like that?</p><p>Steve patted Wanda on the shoulder and said, "I'm headed to the gym early, but you can come when you're done with breakfast."</p><p>She rolled her eyes at him, but the effect wasn't really the same with a big grin on her face.</p><p>Bucky stretched and yawned. "I think I got up too early." He laid down, still on the table. "I'm blaming Steve."</p><p>"Spoiler alert, Wanda replied, "you always get up at the same time every morning."</p><p>"But who's fault is that? Exactly — it's that little guy from Brooklyn named Steven Grant Rogers."</p><p>Grabbing some pancakes and the bottle of syrup, Wanda took a seat at the kitchen counter with a stool. She would've sat at the table but...a certain someone was laying there. She started eating slowly, trying to remove her gaze from Bucky's. It's almost like he could see right through her.</p><p>"Nice weather we're having," he exclaimed.</p><p>Wanda raised an eyebrow and stifled a laugh. "If that's your way of breaking the ice, then you could use some work.</p><p>"Well, guess what? I've actually broken ice before!" Wanda was about to say something, but he cut her off. "And I'm totally not talking about the time I fell off a train. Ah, good times. I also slipped on a particular patch of frozen ice and fell onto this guy who later punched Steve in a back alley...hmm, pretty sure that was back in '37. Or '38."</p><p>"Okay, oldie, I don't need to hear every detail about the Great Depression, told by one James Buchanan Barnes."</p><p>Bucky placed his metal hand over his heart. "Ouch, you've wounded me, Wanda! But seriously," he got up and sat next to her, "I can tell something's troubling you."</p><p>Bucky waited for her to speak — let's just say that he has a lot of patience. "I- I saw something. Last night, I mean."</p><p>"Oh?" He grabbed an extra fork and stabbed at a piece of Wanda's pancakes.</p><p>Wanda sighed. "It's complicated, almost like a memory. I saw you and...a bunch of other girls." His face paled and his fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "Everyone was dancing and then—"</p><p>"Was there a girl with red hair?" Bucky suddenly asked.</p><p>"Yes? Her name was Natalia wasn't it?" Wanda hoped she got the detail right. She wondered why the redheaded girl was so important to Bucky and how he remembered her. He dropped his fork and it clattered to the ground loudly. "It was your dream though." <em>Wouldn't you know if Natalia was there or not?</em></p><p>Bucky didn't answer, but Wanda knew he understood what she was asking. He hesitated before talking.</p><p>"Yes, well...<em>kinda.</em>" Wanda must've looked confused, so be continued, "It was a memory of mine, but it wasn't on my mind last night."</p><p>"Meaning..."</p><p>She looked at him more closely. Noting the guilt build up in his eyes, Wanda remembered how Natalia had been trained by the very same man. She mentally cursed for thinking that. This wasn't the Winter Soldier she'd seen — this was Bucky Barnes: the kind-hearted person who ate other people's pancakes and rested on kitchen tables.</p><p>
  <em>It wasn't his memory.</em>
</p><p>"Yup," Bucky snapped her out of her thoughts.</p><p>She blinked. "Did I say that last part out loud?"</p><p>"I just took a guess." He shrugged with a playful smile lighting up his face. It disappeared as quick as it'd sprung up, being replaced by a solemn expression. "I'm sorry you had to see that. That was..." Bucky struggled to find an appropriate word.</p><p>"Strange? Creepy? Haunting?" Wanda offered. "I can't imagine anyone going through that and living to tell the tale."</p><p>Bucky, who'd picked up his fork and was about to take another bite, lost his grip again.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>He shook his head. "Nothin'." He slowly added, "I can tell you have questions...but you're going to have to ask the one person that was there.</p><p>Wanda blinked. "One of those girls survived?"</p><p>"Of course," Bucky had the ghost of a smile on his face, "she is your trainer, after all."</p><p>And that was the moment when the pieces finally clicked. <em>The red hair. Assassin training. Natalia. Russia.</em></p><p>That small redheaded girl was Natasha Romanoff — and the memory and pain belonged to her.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please consider leaving a kudos or a comment! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wanda talks with Natasha.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I didn't mean to imply Romanogers, but I accidentally did. Apologies if you don't ship it, but I hope you see why I did it. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Natasha was already in the training room when Wanda entered. She was at the corner punching bag, beating the absolute shit out of it. Wanda would've stopped her from destroying the bag, but a quick look the the other corner confirmed that it was a lost cause. Everyone at some point broke a bag off its chains. She noticed Steve watching from the opposite side of the room.</p><p>With every punch, ballet music coursed through her already ringing ears. The blood turned darker until it eventually dried, nobody caring enough to clean it off the wooden floor. Every spin and twirl made Natasha remember what it was like to dance until her feet bled scarlet. She absentmindedly muttered in Russian, things about that day and the details that kept nagging her.</p><p>She'd been brainwashed several times before. It was pretty simple protocol in the Red Room, starting whenever a recruit knew something they shouldn't know. Or when their memory wasn't shrouded in enough darkness and death, but instead happier times like family and friends and fun; Natasha thought of them as the three forbidden F's.</p><p>Victims of the Red Room (although there was only one now) wouldn't remember any of it. They weren't supposed to. But you can't control everything in life, including flaws methods of punishment and wiping off everything about a person. Natasha almost collapsed as she painfully thought about what it was like to start over with a blank slate — she knew the feeling more than anyone.</p><p>Punch. <em>You shouldn't be here, Romanoff. You don't belong, and you never will.</em></p><p><em>Shut up, </em>Natasha mentally replied to her self. Kick.</p><p>She could picture herself rolling her eyes. <em>Sorry, would you prefer if I called you </em><em>Romanova</em><em> instead? Natalia Alianovna... Romanova. </em>Punch.</p><p>Natasha didn't even reply before feeling a familiar set of eyes staring into the back of her head. She didn't want to be around people. Trust was hard to put in others, and she found herself at the top of her own list. <em>Do you trust yourself anymore? Have you ever? </em>Kick. The bag flew off the chain and landed with a thud on the floor.</p><p>"<em>Shut up</em>," the agent said aloud in Russian. She felt good about talking back until she remembered who was watching her.</p><p>Steve was too far to have heard what she said, but could tell something was up. He walked over after downing an entire water bottle. "Nat."</p><p>"Cap," Natasha greeted, easily switching into English. "I hope you're here to tell me some good news."</p><p>He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What did you have in mind?"</p><p>"Well, the burning question in my mind is who Captain America is gonna take to dinner some day." She smirked and Steve groaned his usual response to the question: the I'm-so-done-with-your-shit-Romanoff groan.</p><p>"It's hard to find someone with the same life experience," he replied. <em>Oh?</em></p><p>Natasha shrugged. "Easy. Just make something up, Rogers." <em>Damn. That shirt looks good on him.</em></p><p>"What, like you?"</p><p>She hesitated in a very-unlike-Natasha way. Images of ballet and training flickered once again. She found herself looking at different IDs and files, full of covers and aliases. <em>Natalie Rushman. Natasha Romanoff. Natalia Romanova. </em>The list went on and on forever.</p><p>"It's a good way not to die." <em>I'm living proof.</em></p><p>Steve finally said, "There is one girl, but I don't know how she feels about me." <em>Damnit. Wait, am I jealous? </em></p><p>"A girl can't reject the one and only, yeah?" Natasha winked and he blushed. "Good luck, Captain." <em>Love is for children. Shut up, Romanoff.</em></p><p>Steve walked away, blushing furiously. He hoped that his red ears were hidden from her sight. His eyes made contact with Wanda's and she grinned knowingly. Steve silently begged her to not say anything or go into his mind. His worry only increased when she did exactly that and went over to the person he secretly had a crush on.</p><p>"Nat," Wanda greeted.</p><p>She didn't even turn around from staring at the wall. "You saw it didn't you?"</p><p>Natasha thought about what Coulson and Clint and once told her several years ago. <em>"You give a whole new meaning to the word </em><em>blunt</em><em>." </em>She likes things better when they're straight to the point; no unnecessary details.</p><p>"What?" Wanda asked, shocked. "How do you know everything?"</p><p>"They call me <em>all-knowing, </em>so maybe that's why." Natasha shrugged. "Besides, I thought I felt something off about last night's gauntlet."</p><p>Wanda choked on air. "You mean more off than the fact that Bucky was there and you and a load of other girls were dancing before murder?"</p><p>"I wouldn't exactly call it dancing...training is a better word."</p><p>"And Bucky?" Wanda feared the answer.</p><p>Natasha hesitated. "I was hoping he wouldn't recover memories of the Red Room, but here we are." She saw Wanda's curiosity and continued, "The Red Room was a training facility for young girls in Russia. We were taken from families we'd never know, trained to seduce and kill in a professional manner, and learned to keep everything in check. Bucky was the Winter Soldier and a valuable person to have in Hydra. Hydra would lend him to us for a training position.</p><p>"The government didn't care?"</p><p>"Uh-huh, yeah." Natasha snorted. "The Soviet Union, and then even when it collapsed, still had better things to do. Tensions ran high all the time within the country, especially with the United States getting involved.</p><p>"I always had a suspicion that they knew—"</p><p>"—but didn't take any action because you were still helping the KGB," Wanda finished. "Sorry, your thoughts are kinda loud right now."</p><p>The agent nodded and said, "Did you see exactly what I saw?"</p><p>"You were dancing all day long to ballet music," Wanda explained, "but then someone messed up."</p><p>"Elizaveta."</p><p>"Yes, and you tried to help her. That big scary lady—"</p><p>"Madame B."</p><p>"Madame B said no and eventually called upon the Winter Soldier to do something. You were called up to shoot her," Wanda finished with a sob. The Red Room sounded horrible.</p><p>She looked into Natasha's emerald green eyes and tried to read her expression. It looked slightly pained, as if everything was too much to keep in. Wanda had to give her credit — she was doing a pretty good job of it.</p><p>"How long were you there?" The teenager asked in a small voice.</p><p>Natasha swallowed. "Twelve years, give or take. Then Clint was sent to kill me."</p><p>Wanda opened her mouth to say something, but Natasha added, "I was already the Black Widow by then, top of all SHIELD watchlists. He was following me for months after I burned down the Red Room and ran. After cornering me, injured and wishing for death, Clint made a different call."</p><p>"You trusted him?" Wanda replied. She was using it as a distraction to get he her mind off of what happened to the other girls in the program. "I've lived with you for months, and from what I can tell: you don't trust easily."</p><p>Natasha offered a small and rare smile. "Took him weeks for me to actually say anything other than an accusation of lying. Coulson had a helping hand in that too."</p><p>Wanda returned the smile. But she knew her mission wasn't quite complete. "Let me know if you need any help...ever, okay? I want to help you, Nat."</p><p>"You already have helped, Wanda," Natasha  said softly, "and for that — I thank you."</p><p>Wanda's smile turned to a smirk. "Now, what's up with you and the Captain?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please remember to give kudos, bookmark, or leave a comment on the story! :D</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider adding a kudo, comment, or bookmark it. Your support means everything to me! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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